


Open My Thighs and Peer Right In

by TehChou



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always the Opposite Sex, Charlotte Xavier - Freeform, F/M, Kink Meme, Medical Kink, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:03:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehChou/pseuds/TehChou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6192.html?thread=7879728#t7879728 or: Charlotte and the OB-GYN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open My Thighs and Peer Right In

“So what brings you in to see me today, Ms. Xavier?”

The man is ridiculously handsome, sharp boned and angular with a voice like honey and knives. She resolutely does not shiver, does not react, does not twitch.

“Just a routine check-up,” she replies, brightly smiling. She sits with ankles crossed on the medical cot, supports herself with her palms.The doctor looks at her then, the first time since she’s entered his office and there’s a sardonic glint in his eyes.

“You’re unusually cheerful about the entire thing,” he says, bland. “Most women aren’t exactly enthusiastic, pardon me for being frank.” Her smile goes a little ridged and then over-animated.

“Oh no, no, it’s fine, just, well, I just think it’s best to keep a good face on things,” she replies and he grunts. “And it’s not my first, of course. I know the routine.” Her laugh sounds forced to her ears.

She catches a thought from him _ridiculous_ before she clamps down _hard_ ; an instinctual reaction like she’s been hit, nameless fear gripping her chest. His brow goes higher.

“Yes,” he agrees. “I do remember you.” She thinks he’ll mention how many times she’s been here, tell her she doesn’t exactly need this procedure, but he just flips his clipboard back to the first page.

“Alright then,” he says and he looks away. He hands her a medical gown, pale and washed out with garish faded patterns peppering it. “I’m going to have to ask you to put this on. Keep your brave face on if you must,” he murmurs, low like a flood in her gut. She shifts.

“Of course, I always do,” she replies, voice and smile overly loud and artificial in the glare of fluorescence. He grunts and the door snicks shut behind his retreating back, the white flutter of his coat replaced with paint and particle board. She is left alone.

“Right. You can do this, you’re a big girl,” she tells herself sternly and fingers the hem of her cardigan. She takes a deep breath.

She ignores, with studied patience, the brush of fabric against her nipples as her sweater goes over her head, as her bra unhooks and exposes them to no one. She does not note the way they swell, painfully sensitive to the currents of central air. She definitely does not slide a slick finger over one, wet from a furtive, secretive trip into her mouth. That would be dirty, that would be inappropriate, that would be wrong.

 _Get a hold of yourself, Xavier_ , she hisses to herself as she savagely ties a knot into the medical gown. She divests herself, with closed eyes and a clenched jaw, of her pants and under garments; one quick jerk that’s over before she can make that into a mess as well. She swallows thickly and hops back up onto the examining cot, tucking a nervous strand of coiffed hair behind her ear and kicking her feet. She feels like a child and stops.

He returns in that moment, a harsh rap on the door and she flushes for no reason she can tell and pulls her legs up.

“Yes,” she croaks and cringes, but he does not look at her, head bowed over his clipboard. The drawer to his right slides open without a touch and _oh_ she sees why he is a doctor, now as the speculum floats from it's bed. They land with a clink along with a tub of lubricant onto a metal tray situated in front of backless, rolling chair. All are familiar sights; she licks her lips, he sits and snaps on a glove.

“Dr. Lehnsherr, wasn’t it,” she blurts and he glances at her.

“Hmm,” he replies, a wordless affirmative and swings the stirrups to the ready. “Feet here, please.” Her mouth goes very dry and she does not move. He waits, politely she thinks, for a moment.

“Not as brave, now,” he asks and he grips her ankle in a tight grip. His hands are cool. “It’s alright.” _Ridiculous_ , again, that thought. His veins stand out blue in the artificial light as he uses that grip to forcibly drag her legs open.

She squeaks and lets her head thunk back onto the pillow.

“Relax,” he says and she does, thighs going lax.

One foot and then the other, exposed and open. She concentrates on breathing. The tub unscrews without a touch and that’s, that’s _something_ isn’t it, as he dips his fingers in.

It’s hard not to jump under the press of his finger, not to gasp and squirm and clench down moaning at the slide of latex sheathed flesh. He works in one slick finger like she isn’t already loose, careful and sure and she can _smell_ him crouched between her legs. He explores inside her, fingers shifting and stroking, searching and she can’t help that her breath hitches, light and without air. He pushes in deeper, two fingers now, catching, less careful this time. He slides deeper and deeper and _oh god_ , rubbing against the walls of her cunt. Pleasure arcs to her curling toes.

“Relax,” he repeats and she notes the tension in his voice and consciously forces herself not to clench around him. She wants to look, to see if she’s hurting him, but she can’t, as frozen inside herself as he is heated in her. Her cunt is betraying her with slick, wet noises and she tosses a hand over her face where he knows she can’t see her embarrassment, hidden by the gown and her crooked legs as she is. Her heartbeat pounds rushing blood in her ears.

She thinks, as many times as she’s been here _too many_ , that this is the longest the good doctor’s ever spent between her thighs.

She does not come.

He withdraws from her after an indefinite period of time. She nearly weeps at the loss and slides her arm away from her eyes, blinking in the harsh light. She watches the speculum float dispassionately as the doctor tosses his gloves in the bin. It gives her something to turn her attention to as she struggles to regain a normal heart rate. It disappears behind her knee, sinking lower in her sight.

“Sorry. I’m sure you know by now, but it's always a bit cold,” he says and does not sound sorry at all. She laughs and ignores how unsteady it sounds.

“Yes, well, I’ll not worry about the cold, really,” she babbles. The doctor’s coat ruffles as he shifts. “Their shape is scarier, I think. Like a duck's bill where one decidedly does not belo-”

The cold metal slides into her and her gasp is aborted. The doctor’s hands are at her knees. His eyes are like rings of blue steel circling a black core.

He’s aroused.

“I’ve noticed, you know,” he says and his voice is molten. His thumbs rub in circles. She swallows.

“Noticed,” she asks, breathy and deeper than she expected. The speculum is still inside her. His smile is thin.

“Yes,” he says and moves out from behind her legs. One hand stays resting on her, gliding over her thighs as he comes closer. “Oh, I know what they say. Come see me once a month.” His fingers grip her chin, tilt her head back. She watches him with wide eyes. “But you’re the only one that ever does.”

He kisses her, grip going hard, digging into her skin, like he’s moving her ankle, again, like she’s disobedient and flighty with nervousness.

The moan she lets out feels like being set free. Her lips part under his, arms coming up to circle his neck. He tastes like coffee and smoke, bitter and forbidden. His tongue pushes into her mouth and she sucks, hesitant until he’s tasted so much of her she can’t help but be greedy. He pulls back and her mouth hangs slack, tongue brushing her lips. There’s a string of saliva threaded at the tip of it, glistening between them before it breaks as the doctor stands.

“Your _diligence_ ,” he says, like he never stopped and here the speculum _moves_ where she’s forgotten it. She whimpers as he punctuates his words with a shallow thrust. “Is admirable.”

“I-” she starts, interrupted by another thrust.

“Will you deny it,” he asks, voice like gravel, harsh and rolling. She shakes her head mutely. The speculum warms to her inner temperature. He smiles, again and this time she sees a hint of teeth. “Good.” His hands slides under her back and she arches up, giving him room, _giving him access_. He tugs on her knot and the gown becomes a glorified blanket, one string all that held back the tide between decency and obscenity. It slips to the floor forgotten. His hand trails from her back over her belly to ride up and knead one of her exposed breasts. Her breath heaves under his palm.

“Good,” he repeats, distracted, busy devouring her with his eyes. She feels strung out and weightless, high on what must be a dream. This does not happen outside of her sleeping bed. The doctor leans down and licks at her nipple, tugging on it with his lips. She stares at the feathery softness of the hair at the top of his head. She reaches out with a shaky hand to touch it, to card through it. His hand holds her swollen breast steady as he sucks her.

The metal inside her opens wide.

“ _Doctor_ ,” she chokes and he smiles against her skin. She squirms as it opens her up, slick and wet and she feels fuller then she’s ever felt. Her hands crinkle the paper laid out over the cot as they drop to her sides and curl into fists.

“I’ve wanted you since the first time you came to me,” he tells her as his attention switches to her other nipple. “Since the first time I felt your sweet cunt slick my fingers.” A nip. “You never needed lubricant.” A stinging breath. “Oh, I always gave it to you, for decorum's sake.” Lick, suck. “But you never needed it.” The speculum slides shut and leaves her, soaked and flushed. The naked flesh of his long slender fingers replace them, circling her clit. She jerks, whimpers as the speculum clatters to the ground.

“Soaked,” he adds and there’s a deep _satisfaction_ in his words as he fingers her and plays with her nipple.

“ _Please_ ,” she manages and his teeth dig into flesh. His mouth hovers over her panting, almost pained and she twists to one side. “Please,” she repeats. His eyes flicker to hers, hard and wild. She looks at him and sees herself through his eyes; a mess of mused hair and flushed cheeks and abused lips. She watches herself drag in a hitching breath. Should he?

“Yes.” His lips shape her words without sound and his hands go to his belt, unhooking it, slithering out of his pants to join the discarded speculum. She tries to get up, to grasp him, to give to him but he presses a steady hand between her breasts and pushes _down_ , and she gets it, she does. He tells her, anyways.

“I’ve seen you like this so many times it would be a shame not to have you like this, with your legs up and open.” She closes her eyes against his voice as he circles her, fingers wet against her flesh as one hand returns to her knee. She hears the rustling of plastic, a pause, _a condom_ she thinks, grateful for his faculty, then the other hand returns to her as well. He presses, she spreads. His cock lies flush against his belly, hard and taught and painful with arousal and he leans over, using her knees as leverage to rub up against her, in between the sopping lips of her cunt. The contact, _his_ touch against her, it’s all more than she can take and to her own shame she’s coming, just from that little bit. She bites her lips hard as her orgasm over takes her, straining in the stirrups. He follows her, doesn’t let up, an almost painful over stimulation.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah,” she can’t stop, each quiet, breathless gasp going higher as spots dance across her vision and as she’s still spasming he slips into her. The thick head of his cock stretches her entrance, pops in with a wet noise and oh, _oh_ he’s _inside her_ and when he is she looses it. It’s too much, too much to hold back the tide of. All she can feel for a dreamy, timeless moment is his drive, his single minded intensity. She wonders, as his cock slides in and out with embarrassing ease (she’s _dripping_ ), if he’s faced with this focus everyday, if _scalpel held in precision, hands still and perfect_

 _don’t think don’t look it’s not for you_

 _there’s men and there’s women and there’s others and they all need something from him_

 _volatile, he has a gland here, his mutation, slipping means death, but he won’t slip, has never slipped, not since_

 _It’s her, again, she’s here. Why? Doesn’t she know he’s supposed to be despised? It’s too funny, her persistence. You’re being_ ridiculous _. (That word that word, is that what he was thinking about?)_

 _She has beautiful thighs._

She shifts against the stirrups, hips lifted clear off the cot, pushing back as hard as he’s pushing in. At this point they’re almost fighting more then fucking and as she comes down from inside his mind, from her violation, from her orgasm and from him entering her, there’s no doubt who’s winning. She never wanted the chance.

She has one hand over her breast, kneading it between her own fingers, playing with it, mouth hanging open on a breath. He’s watching her with static intensity, nearly mindless with it as he ignores her squirming and rocks his hips. He’s full inside her and hot, so hot. His body is a long line, she can see how lean he is beneath his coat and the thin turtle neck coated to his body and she just wants him to _touch her already._

The doctor’s eyes go dark and heavy lidded and he shifts over her. The sound of his still-booted feet against the cot’s inbuilt steps unnecessarily loud. It strikes her then that his pants are still around his ankles, but he’s climbing on top of her, shifting inside her, lifting her feet out of the stirrups to lay them pressed against the sensitive flesh breasts and she doesn’t have thought or breath to laugh.

Oh, _oh_. She doesn’t think anyone’s been this deep before. He hooks his arms under her knees bracing himself with his elbows laid bracing on either side of her head and kisses her bruisingly hard. One of his hands tangles awkwardly in her long, wavey hair.

She thinks, perhaps, they’re making too much noise, no, scratch that, she _knows_ they’re making too much noise, but she’s desperate, she _needs_ this and _sod_ the government telling her she shouldn’t. She stretches her mind into the tangle of bright spots that are other’s minds and turns them, very deliberately away.

He fucks her mouth with his tongue and she can moan as loud as she wants.

The doctor pulls back and frowns at the door, but she takes his head in her hands, maneuvering around her own legs to do it, and tugs him back down. To his increasingly stellar credit his hips don’t even stutter in their rhythm.

“It’s alright,” she whispers in his ear. “ _Please_.” He groans, the first noise he’s made that’s not a sly remark and his teeth nip at her neck as he sucks in a mouthfull of vulnerable flesh.

“Wanted you,” he murmurs.

“Yes,” she agrees.

When he comes it’s in focused silence; his entire body goes utterly still, all hard lines and sweat beading his brow. Charlotte tosses her head back into the paper covered pillow at the force of it. If she was less incapacitated she’d wonder at how he can hold in a storm so intense as his orgasm.

As it is, she clutches his white coat between her fingers, hanging on tight and whining deep in her throat as all he is in that moment washes over her. He resumes rocking slowly, hips pumping as he shoots into the condom.

They pant together in silence for a long moment. Dr. Lehnsherr eventually raises his head, fixes her with his single-minded stare and Charlotte smiles into that tension, flushed pleased and fucked out and still folded up like a pretzel. She asks:

“Would you like to go to to dinner tonight?”


End file.
